


How dare you

by SaintSaens



Series: Circumnavigo [6]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Quynh | Noriko, Basically, Booker warnings, Booker | Sebastien le Livre Needs Therapy, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Physical Abuse, Post-Canon, Protective Booker, Protective Quynh, Protective everyone of everyone else in their own ways, Quỳnh warnings, Quỳnh's own brand of therapy, Stockholm Syndrome, Team as Family, That's it, Whump, and Quỳnh provides, and also, because I can't tell, they were both captives of each other's misery at this point it's a mess, they're working on it ok, who is who in this scenario
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:54:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27997860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintSaens/pseuds/SaintSaens
Summary: Quỳnh should feel sorry, for making them help Booker while she keeps a tight grasp on her Andromache.She should feel sorry, and in a way, she is.But she won't apologize, not when she knows she was doing something right.[OR : Quỳnh is out of her iron-maiden, and she vows to show Booker why he should never have hurt Andromache. It's a sort of therapy, although Nile strongly disagrees with it.]
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Booker | Sebastien le Livre & Nile Freeman, Booker | Sebastien le Livre & Quynh | Noriko, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Circumnavigo [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959520
Comments: 30
Kudos: 103





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Whoa. I'm really there? Incredible. It happens. 
> 
> Quick note: this is a direct following of my previous fic Who Are You (ie Quỳnh getting to know Booker through the dreams and being really frustrated at his decisions making skills or lack thereof). You don't need to read it? The first chapter here is a follow up straight of the first chapter on Who Are You, so it might make more sense to read that at least. 
> 
> But anyway: tl;dr = Quỳnh is back and she vows revenge on Booker. Nile realizes something is wrong and gets the team to go to Booker asap.
> 
> Have a good one!

_"We are leaving in thirty minutes" Nicky says from the doorway. "Joe just got the train tickets. We'll be in Gare du Nord by 11 am. Then we can check if Copley's managed to track down his place." He doesn't comment on her puking her guts out. Or on the fact that she's begged them to go and check on a man they still are working on forgiving. He trusts her. She hopes he isn't mistaken._

_She looks back at him, sees Andy hovering behind him. She nods, tiredly. "Belleville. Line 2" she says simply, a vague memory of her dream haunting her eyelids. "I think..." she trails off, shaking herself up as she comes to a stand._

_She doesn't notice, the worried glance at her back, and the doubt lingering in her friends' eyes._

_\- - -_

_Nile definitely stops trying to sleep again when she sees Booker hanging in her dream._

_It's the silence, the worst thing. Because there are no words anymore, not even a scream._

_And she sees him hanging._

* * *

  
"Thank you" 

It's the first thing Quỳnh says to Nile, when the door to Booker's flat flies open and the team falls in, ready to face whatever is prowling in the man's rooms. They don't waver, weapons at the ready, Nile first and the men behind her. Andromache is last, but it doesn't matter. She is the first Quỳnh sees. 

The words come out buzzing from her throat. She speaks, as if in prayers, as if she were back in her waters, drifting in a dream that never ends and she could have thought had never began in the first place. 

She says thank you, to Nile, to them all really, to the world for allowing her back here and now, but there is so much more she wants to say, she hopes she will have more time, afterwards, to properly thank the woman who's brought her Andromache. To her. Now. 

There are no replies, only a dazed silence that cuts their words and their thoughts from them.

Quỳnh is standing when they enter, with a peaceful smile on her lips and her eyes bright as she takes her time to see, with her own eyes, the lover and the friends she's left behind.

She sees the stillness taking over them, at her presence there. Joy bubbles in her heart, because she couldn't have hoped for a better surprise. A surprise, as always with her, it's a surprise. She's glad, that they still don't expect her. It was always her thing, so it's good to know she can still manage it.

Joe's wide eyes, Nicky's gapping mouth, Andy's cut breath. 

Because of her. It's a good reminder. 

"Andromache" Quỳnh whispers finally, the words worshiped from her lips after centuries and centuries of thoughts and intent prayers. The woman, her love, her belief, her time and her ruins, looks small in those mere seconds as if she could break and die right there. When Quỳnh takes a step forward, a hand extending to reach what she's longed for since she could remember her as she drowned, Andy stumbles forth, pushing through and falling into her arms.

They don't need words, when they touch. They crumble, from the dizzying needles and pines running up their bodies. It's electric, it's fascinating. 

It's home, finally

They kneel, on that dusty tiled floor, and Andromache is lost into Quỳnh's eyes, her face, her mouth. As if she has thirsted for that light and she had lost herself, waiting to witness it again. Quỳnh's hands flutter to her too, caressing the short hair she remembers long, the trembling neck, the proud shoulders, the face. That face she has waited so long to see again by herself. 

"My love" Quỳnh whispers with a laugh "I've missed you."

Andromache doesn't reply, but a tear falls from her eyes. That's enough for Quỳnh to know, how deep it was, all that turmoil and that pain and that dream. 

They are lost into each other, but Quỳnh cannot escape the brothers who are left standing in the doorway, the two lovers who had taken care of her Andromache while she was away. She takes Andromache in her arms, holding her tight, and spares a glance for them. They are speechless, and she would laugh at the sight if their eyes weren't full of fears, draining, rushing away from them, a feeling they had kept locked in for so long she wondered if they wouldn't be lost without it as an anchor. 

Nicolò's mouth is still opened, and Yusuf's eyes are bright. They are melted in their fighting stance and have yet to react.

"Thank you" she says to them in a croak, because she loves her Andromache and without them she doesn't know if she could have found her again. "Thank you, for everything you did, for Andromache", and when Yusuf nods after a moment, she feels her lips pinch, because she wants to let everything out too, her happiness, her grief and her tears, but it feels wrong to do it here, where they can't settle and when everyone's still reeling from the meeting.

"All of you" Quỳnh repeats, because she truly believes they need to hear it "thank you". She feels Andromache's breath in her neck, and the tear rolling down her collarbone after having left the cold cheek of her lover. She is finally complete, full to the brim with peace. She feels true, for the first time since she's left them all behind. 

It finally feels right. 

She's back. 

Quỳnh sighs. 

"Booker?" 

Nile's voice breaks out in a tight whisper. 

It snaps everyone's attention back to the present, the room and the reasons they're here.

The dreams.

The screams.

The hanging.

Quỳnh feels Andromache shift in her hold suddenly. She loosen her arms, not wanting to cage Andromache again, as Quỳnh felt she had for the past 500 years she had lost down there, and she looks at the young woman standing by, whose eyes are fixed on the dead man left hanging by the wall in the back. 

Quỳnh sees Nile's grip falter around her gun, and she sees realization, settling down over her mind as she tenses her muscles, readying herself for a fight.

Andromache's fingers, on Quỳnh's arms, tighten. 

Quỳnh doesn't look back at where Booker is, she doesn't need to. After so many days, she can tell the rhythm, the cycle. It's close.

The body shudders, Nile pales. There is a clatter, as her gun falls to the ground and she rushes forward. 

"What?" 

It's Andromache's voice, cracking, that make Quỳnh look back at her, close to her. Back into the clear eyes of her lover.

She smiles, sad. The peace hadn't lasted long. But it was fine. They had time now. 

"It's alright" she tells her, as Andromache's eyes snap away from her face and take in the Frenchman's limp body and Nile's frantic attempts at freeing him. She is straining herself, the pipes too, Quỳnh can hear it. It's useless.

"Booker? Booker!" 

Andromache looks back at Quỳnh, fixedly. As Nile calls out louder, despair wrenching her tone when she understands that she just doesn't know what to do to get him down, Quỳnh doesn't look away from Andromache. She hears though, Yusuf and Nicolò running to help, suddenly taken out of the trance they had been in when seeing her.

Andromache is still, in her arms. But she looks at Quỳnh, and there is confusion and clarity fighting in her pupils. As if she doesn't want to believe Quỳnh did it. 

"He is fine" Quỳnh tells her. "It's nothing, don't worry about it."

Andromache tenses. Quỳnh wonders if she said the wrong thing. 

There is a shot resonating around them all of a sudden, and she glances back, sees Booker's body falling, barely supported by Nile, while Nicky catches his shoulders to prevent him from crashing to the ground. Yusuf's gun is in the air, and his eyes are lost, behind the thread of rope still hanging from the ceiling, lost into the ceiling. 

Quỳnh feels sorry, for making them go through this. 

She had to do this. She had to, but putting them through this circus...

It wasn't the point.

Yusuf didn't need more struggling feelings. She knows how hard Booker's betrayal was on him. How conflicted he must feel. She has seen it, from Nile's perspective.

She spares a glance for Nicolò, whose hands are busy loosening the leftover rope and getting it away from Booker's neck, trying to massage his spine back into place, to help the process. He is focused, deadly so, his jaw is locked and his eyes are cold. Every emotions he feels, bubbling up but kept sealed in for the time being, Quỳnh knows.

She hears too, Nile murmurs as she holds onto Booker's shirt, her grip shaking and her doubts rising again. What if this one was the one? What if it was done and he was gone, definitely?

She feels Andromache, turned to stone under her fingertips.

She knows, she knows.

It was hard on them all.

Quỳnh should feel sorry, for making them help Booker while she keeps a tight grasp on her Andromache. 

She should feel sorry, and in a way, she is. 

But she won't apologize, not when she knows she was doing something right.

  
There are no objections after Booker comes back.

They don't think really. They take the van and go to the house they've got left in western France.

Everyone is silent for the drive, barely breathing, even that. 

It's nowhere special, another lost home in the middle of soft hills and tree-filled places. The stones are stark white, sometimes sandy with the dirt of the countryside or dark with the fumes of cars. The buildings around startle colors in the observer's eyes, a clashing enlightenment of bright stones cutting into storming skies, proud before the depth of a forest or the turmoils of a muddy river. An unremarkable place in the middle of an unremarkable space.

Just what they need right now, to hold them, while they decide what to do next. 

In the house, conversation is not easy but it takes off. 

It's Andromache who leads, as always.

Andromache feels frail beneath Quỳnh's fingertips. She is a fleeting thing, then, unable to let her go and yet still questioning, always within arm's length, always holding on, and yet her eyes follow the others as they come and go, and make sure everything is settled. Her eyes are tight when Booker is in sight, and Quỳnh can feel her Andromache's pulse rise. 

Quỳnh can't really hold that against her, not when she knows what it would have looked like when they came for Booker and instead found her there alive, and him dying. 

"How?" Andy asks her, once the quiet has returned and they're left standing in the middle of the living-room.

"I waited." Quỳnh replies, softly, eyes lost in her lover's being. 

"I mean...when?" 

"Not long ago. Less than two weeks, I think."

When Quỳnh says that out loud, she sees Nile and Booker tensing in the corridor as they put away some tools to repair a few old lights.

Andromache looks at them and Quỳnh can feel her desire to ask. If she hadn't waited for her. If she had never doubted they would find each other. 

Booker hunches over himself in the following emptiness, mutters something and quickly takes his leave up the stairs, fleeing from their words. He leaves, stealing away like a thief, just as Nicolò and Yusuf come in, arms full of groceries. Nile is left there, watching his back disappear in the darkness. 

Quỳnh sneers. 

"why?" Andromache asks instead, and Quỳnh knows what she is asking about now. Why did you go after him. Why did you do this, when you could have come to me.

"Justice." Quỳnh simply replies, as naturally as she drowned. She turns to Andromache, not bothering with the tightening of Nile's fists, the widening of Nicolò's eyes and the tension in Yusuf's neck as she speaks. "For you, my love" she says, smiling.

Andromache doesn't ask anything more, and when Quỳnh bends closer to kiss her, she holds herself still, until her lips reach hers and then she is engulfed in Quỳnh's waters. As if it didn't matter. 

(Because in the end, it doesn't) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this. I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> I don't know if this idea of Quỳnh going after Booker because he dared to hurt Andromache (and not because she's mad...or set on revenge against the team...) and he should know better(?) has been done before, but I couldn't unsee it as soon as it came to me. She's not crazy, she's very rational and she has a very good reason for doing what she does although some people might not see eye to eye as to her...techniques? (Nile. Poor Nile.)
> 
> Anyway! I hope you liked it :D
> 
> See you for the next chapters! (aka the beginning of the therapy. Because this was just the...hors-d'oeuvre. God I need sleep)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sort of lied? When I said the story would pick up by this chapter? 
> 
> Because I realised I hadn't actually dealt with what it would be like for everyone to be together again. So here is a little snapshot of that time, and of course Quỳnh is Done With Everything. 
> 
> Here you go: a feast of slow angst :D don't thank me.

It's a sensitive environment they live in. It's been decided somehow that they would all stay together in the house for the time being. It's easier, there is a lot of thinking that needs time to bear fruits and they need it too. They need time for Quỳnh to be safe, to be fine completely around them, and them around her. They need time, to know what they will do next. About how Quỳnh had come back to them. About Booker too... and everything that entails. 

But for now, Quỳnh is back.

Quỳnh is back and she takes to their reality like a fish to water, it's almost as if the others need to catch up with her.

Andromache, as she is wont to do, takes everything in stride. That Quỳnh would know, about supermarkets, shampoo, computers and the internet, it doesn't faze her. _I wondered_ , she tells her one night, when their fingers are barely touching and they hold onto that tingling feeling, _I wondered if Sébastien could see you, what you could see of me, of this world here._

Quỳnh kisses her. She couldn't see much, that's true, but 200 years it's good enough, every single death a snap of time. She learned a lot, she heard too. She watched over them. Which is why she laughs too when Joe comments on a car, and it sends the team, tired and tensed as they all are, cackling with tears in their eyes at the memories of that time in Uruguay. 

Only Nile doesn't laugh, although she blinks at them and heaves a sigh. As if it weren't the first time.

"You'll get there soon enough" Quỳnh tells her with a pat on the back as she hands her the last grocery bag. 

Nile nods sharply, intent on putting all the food in the fridge.

Nile doesn't speak a lot to her, watching from the sidelines more times than not when Quỳnh talks with Andy, or when Yusuf and Nicolò join in. Quỳnh feels protective, because she understands how it must be. Being the youngest, the newest, finding herself surrounded by those centuries old friends who've shared so much and remember almost just as much. 

Nile stays silent, when they talk. She watches, deep in thought. She doesn't mind being drawn into the talks, but she doesn't feel as welcome or legitimate as she used to. What they've been through together, what they are all healing over, now that Quỳnh is back, she can't even begin to think what it's like. She doesn't try. 

Quỳnh knows it will take time. She smiles at her, she cajoles her as much as she can get away with, and Andromache sometimes chides her for it. But Quỳnh only winks at Nile, who seems unable to decide whether she should take part in that teasing against Andromache or if she should still be wary of the screaming lady that had haunted her dreams. 

Andromache watches, and Quỳnh smiles at her and holds her close. It will be fine, there's no other way for them but forward. 

Quỳnh doesn't impose herself on Nile. She lets her come to her instead. The bath is not something she had foreseen but it's as fine a place as any, to speak. 

Quỳnh is soaking in cold waters, burying herself under and breathing out, exhaling as much as she can as long as she is able to. She distantly hears the door to the bathroom creak open but she doesn't mind it, at this point no matter who it is they can do their thing and let her do her own, it's alright.

The scream that shakes the water and reaches her, muffled, does surprise her. It's short and uncontrolled, followed by a sharp thump. It dies just as quickly as it came out, but Quỳnh still opens her eyes and flies out of the bath. 

Her muscles are coiled and ready for a fight, her hands gripped on the side of the porcelain bath when she sees Nile sprawled on the tiles by the door, her head in her hand as she moans in pain. 

"Everything alright kid?" Quỳnh asks, relaxing her fingers and pushing her hair back from her face. 

Nile's breath stutters. "Yeah, I think so" she rubs the back of her head "I hit myself..."

Quỳnh looks around, the tiles are dry and nothing is on the path. 

"How did you manage that?" 

Nile looks up, lips thin. 

"You... scared me." She says simply, and Quỳnh stares back. 

"Oh." 

Nile breathes out. "I, I wasn't expecting to see you in the bath. It just -" she waves about, making to get up on shaking legs with a wince on her face. "I didn't miss the butt, good god."

"You thought I was drowning." Quỳnh states.

Nile nods once, holding her clothes to her midriff.

"I was" Quỳnh goes on, and Nile startles "I like the feeling. But I can't imagine what it would have looked like for you, to see me like this." 

Nile shakes her head. "It's not... It's just, you looked so peaceful. I didn't -"

"Ah. You never saw me like this, did you?" 

"Not in the water no. I thought it would be hard for you, to ..." Quỳnh understands. Nile doesn't need to say it. She thought she would hate the waters, so taking a bath. It would have looked terrifying, she can agree to that. 

"It's not, actually." Quỳnh smiles up at her, leaning back in the bath. "I miss it, in a way. Gravity is really not something I took into account before." 

Nile bites her lips.

"Yes?" 

"What about -" She stops herself and she looks frustrated. 

Quỳnh cocks her head. "Go on. I don't bite, I swear." 

Nile turns toward her fully. "Why were you screaming then?" 

Her voice is so small and tentative, like a child knowing there is an answer somewhere but not wanting to hear it really. It takes Quỳnh a moment to realize she's not asking about now, in the bath, and she admits she wondered for a second if she had screamed without knowing it. But then her mind goes back to the glimpses. Those glimpses, and it's true Quỳnh had been screaming through and through. Nile can't know better, of course. 

Quỳnh sighs. "I'm sorry, that's what you had to see of me. I didn't scream, usually...but then, very little has been usual about the past months or so." she shrugs. 

"How was it?" Nile settles against the sink, her clothes left aside on the counter. She blinks and shakes herself up "No, don't mind me, I just-"

"It's alright" Quỳnh laughs. "I miss it, actually. I'm glad to be back, here, with my family. And you too, obviously" she winks and Nile huffs in reply "but I miss it a bit. It was peaceful, in a strange way. 500 years is a long time, I got used to it."

Nile frowns. 

"It's because of Sébastien." Quỳnh admits. "I started screaming because of him."

Nile's eyes widen but she stays silent. 

"I was fine, down there, by myself. I wanted to see the others again, but I was fine. It could have been worse, to be honest. I could have waited for the iron to rust away completely, it wouldn't have taken that long, considering how it was already when I left the coffin...When you appeared to me, I already knew about Sébastien's plans. I already knew what he was trying to do. I was angry at him, because I needed him there for Andromache. I couldn't be there for her myself, so he had to be. But he didn't see it that way, as you know. So... I was angry."

"And you screamed." 

Quỳnh smirks. "A lot. He deserved it to be fair. Still does." 

Nile nods, looking down. As if she doesn't want to say her true thoughts on that. As if it's too much for her, with everything else she had seen herself, of Quỳnh and him in Paris. 

"But I'm truly sorry, that it's how you saw me the first times. It's not a good start, I understand that."

Nile sends her a tight smile. " I get it, I think. I'm usually screaming at the TV when something doesn't go as it's supposed to in a movie... so I understand the feeling, in a way."

Quỳnh hums. "I never thought about it this way. But yes, as close as you could get. With a lot more at stake." 

Nile laughs as she takes her leave finally. "Please, do say that to Joe next time he sits down to watch a soccer match. I would love to hear his reasoning on the matter."

"I'll make sure to wait for you before I say anything!" Quỳnh replies cheerfully. It feels good, to know there is a bridge. As tentative as it is. 

They fall back into a rhythm, adapted to the times and the new personas walking around, but they still fall back to what they knew before they separated. Sometimes it's hard, sometimes it flows, Quỳnh is diving in between them all, she slithers in and out, she appears and goes back. 

She scares Nicolò many times and it always make her laugh when he grumbles afterward.

Yusuf smiles at them, and he jokes with her and they tease each other again. It's the family she had left, and it feels good, to know everything is falling back into place. 

There are a lot more huggings going on then before, but who is she to complain, when she can hold onto Andromache again. 

Nile settles herself to the side at first, but she isn't as stilted as the first days here. There are moments when she freezes, when Quỳnh and her are talking, when they're lost in a conversation and there will be a word, something that stops her and quiets her. Quỳnh doesn't let it faze her. She knows it takes time. And luckily enough, she has plenty of that. 

Quỳnh thinks and goes around. 

She keeps Andromache close every time, either in sight or in her range of hearing. Andromache seems to be fighting herself to give her what she considers some much needed space, to adapt, to acclimate herself back to the world and their own ways. Quỳnh's heart bubbles at her feeble attempts, it's warming to see but it's more useless than necessary. She tells her so regularly. Andromache smiles unabashedly when she hears her say it.

Nile is coming around slowly, but that's fine. They had a bumpy start, she can't hold it against her that when they met, Quỳnh had either screamed or hung someone she held dear. She gets it.

Nicolò looked into her eyes, exhaled deeply and welcomed her back willingly. She knows he looked for something in her eyes, anything that could tell him where she stood and why she had done what she had. But in the end, she claimed justice, and he only nodded. Mostly he is relieved to see her here, she knows. He watches her like a hawk too, even more so when they are all together and he is trying to see something beneath her words. Nothing goes past him, and Quỳnh knows he sees it, Booker being cautious when she's near, the way she tenses back and his eyes fly between them, trying to make sure nothing will happen again. 

Yusuf didn't need to be told twice, he took her in without a question, and he took Booker back too, even if it pained him a bit more than it should. She's glad his love still extends as it used to, still cannot be tamed by the failures of a human soul. He understands, or he tries to, and it hurts and it's hard but he makes do. Quỳnh knows, she feels it in his arms when he hugs her tight, that he would rather have them all back here safe and sound finally, then dispersed onto the world and doubting. 

Quỳnh loves her family. Now, if only Sébastien could bring his shit together and do something, it would be amazing.

Because Booker is... well, very-Booker about it all. 

It frustrates Quỳnh, as she can see it frustrates them all, him included that idiot, because he stays in the shadows. He is there when someone needs help, when someone calls, but otherwise he stays out of the way, trying not to impose. No one openly remarks upon it, as if handling Quỳnh was the top-priority, but they all know. They'll need to do something, because between the relief and the betrayal, and the fact that he had been hanging when they had found him again, it's a lot to unpack. 

Quỳnh is ready, but it looks like she might be the only one. 

In the end, they stay silent on the subject. It festers. Quỳnh gives them time, she knows they never expected to have him back, her even less. So it's a lot to handle, to gather and make sense of. She gives them time, as they go about their day, as they sleep in the night, but she watches as the pain rots and the betrayal works and works and works in their souls and their hearts. 

As if silence helped, the first time around. 

They talk and live, she gives them that. They talk, and really, the house is almost never silent completely. But for this, not a word in between. 

Qyhn almost wants to snap, but it's not her place to work on that. Andromache is lost in Quỳnh and she can't take that away from her. Quỳnh is happy and content too, with Andromache in her arms and beneath her eyes that she doesn't want to lose time thinking about that issue again. For now. But she sees the echoes of it, deep in her lover's eyes. And the guilt, at having her back, when Sébastien wanders alone at their sides and Nile is left fretting, and doubting sometimes, although she would never admit to it.

The others, some days their eyes sting and their heart twists at seeing each other so lost and feeling their way through fog. Other times, it's a snap of anger and rage boiling up their tongues but they keep it all in and try to get it over with, by fighting and training. Never a word uttered. It's not worth it.

No one speaks about it. 

It does drive Quỳnh slightly crazy.

Sometimes, Quỳnh will hear Booker whisper to Nile, who answers in kind. Less often to Nicky if they pass each other by. It's always in passing the words he says, a reply or an information to help out. He never speaks up, never ventures, he only talks to acknowledge what is going on and what needs to be done. 

When him and Yusuf cross path, there is a nod, if even that. It's the worst. No one is stupid enough. Even Quỳnh can see how badly they want to speak to each other. But neither of them will go first. They really are children. 

Quỳnh knows them all too much, maybe apart from Nile, to say she doesn't know what's happening beneath her eyes. Nicolò's loving heart can't bear to see Booker like that. Yusuf is both enraged and despaired, at his friend's helplessness and the path he took to solve his problems when he had been there, by his side, in the first place. Andromache believes in fate, and she welcomes every new battle like it has a meaning outside of their understanding. She sees him fighting himself, the others struggling, and she is a deeply planted tree for them to take shelter under. But she can't do nothing more because it hurts too much and now Quỳnh is here for her, a welcomed distraction. 

Quỳnh, well. Quỳnh never believed in fate. She loves Andromache, she appreciates Nicolò's views on the idea, but Fate, very little for her. She doesn't believe in Fate.

She doesn't believe in words either.

She believes in actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this chapter! 
> 
> Next one will be Quỳnh taking over to handle The Booker's Issue. There will be blood ^^ but it's recovery for immortals.
> 
> [Is Quỳnh working hard on ignoring that she might not be alright herself? that she might be projecting a bit? nooooot at all. It's always easier to handle other's issues than your own.]


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm an idiot and I don't know anything about A03 I posted the second chapter as a draft, then went to publish it properly...and forgot to change something about date etc so it ended up swallowed. Aaaaaah. Techs and me. 
> 
> Anyway, here goes the third chapter! This time no issue with drafting or what! *sigh*

It starts almost inconspicuously. 

They are training. Quỳnh and Nicolò and Andy, sword-fighting. Yusuf is teaching Nile close-combat. Booker is back behind the computer, helping Copley forge a set of new identities for Quỳnh. He went without complaint, shouldering the task willingly and setting himself to it without a word uttered. He does it with mindless focus, as if it's his only reason for being among them, as if it's the only thing he can do for them. As if it's penance, as if he dares to believe it will help. 

Everyone's noticed, but no one points to it. Some might even believe, just like him. 

But Quỳnh knows what he is doing. 

She's seen it before. She knows where this is leading. And it's not happening again, not with her here. 

  
The swords' fight has turned more enraged as Quỳnh uncoils the muscle memory she had trained. Nicolò keeps up against her and Andy with sheer dedication, while Andy smiles brightly through each strike and each parade. Quỳnh smiles too, she can't help it. The sun is high in the sky, and the summer has started drying the grounds around the house. 

It all goes downhill quickly. 

They are fighting, sweating, living, it's an amazing feeling, sleek metal beneath their fingertips and puffs of breath leaving their lungs. So far from the coldness and the wetness of the sea. Quỳnh wants to believe it's fine. Because it is, or it should be, but she's working on it. So it must be, fine that is.

They clash swords and they heave, air burning the lungs and the screeching of blades resonating in her ears. Her muscles are trembling.

The fight is pushed into the house, although they are careful not to catch on any furniture or walls as they keep on attacking each other. They rush, run, twist and jerk, they are making such a commotion it's impossible for Booker not to know where they are.

And so, when he goes down the stairs from the office, he must be aware that something is going on nearby. 

There are by the kitchen, when it happens.

Andy has turned furiously on Nicolò when he grazed Quỳnh's waist with his blade, and now she wants to protect her lover, although Quỳnh doesn't need help. It's worth a laugh, and Quỳnh smiles at the stubbornness her Andromache display as she rains blows down on Nicolò, who faces them with as much grace as possible. 

Quỳnh steps aside, breathing raggedly, watching them fight around the kitchen table. Nicolò's only goal right now seems to be getting Andy away from the cooking ingredients. 

"If you break a spice jar, Andy, I swear you'll regret it!" 

"You've hurt Quỳnh, what were you expecting?"

Quỳnh hears the steps creak at her back. 

She hears Booker walking closer, slowly, gauging the situation. She feels him gauging her too, his eyes straying on the sword she is holding onto. When he reaches her, at the bottom of the stairs, she doesn't acknowledge him. 

"It's for you" he mumbles. It's for her ears only, as the others are too invested in their fighting to notice anything outside of their close surrounding. It grates her, to hear him speak like this. Short, unobtrusive. Irrelevant. She knows what it hides, beneath his tongue, in his mind. Her muscles vibrate with energy and maybe anger too.

Quỳnh spares a glance for the card in his hand, blue-tinted and small, her face judging her from under the plastic cover. It brings a buzzing to her limbs, to see herself like that, cold, frozen. 

She glances back at the fight, which is turning around and around, and feels her hand tighten around the pommel in her hand. Booker has yet to move again, silent, waiting for her to take the card. She sees him swallow as her hand moves on the sword. But he doesn't react. He doesn't say anything more. Coward. 

"We're training, should I pull my punches?" Nicolò is smirking as Andy slashes at him. 

"You've hurt Quỳnh, Nicky. It doesn't go without consequences." Andy slams into the table, trying to reach for him.

Quỳnh smiles at the antics. But Booker is still here, beside her, and Andromache is over there, away from her. She observes, feels the distance again with Andromache, the closeness tingling as she stands with him. It's almost as if she never really left her waters in the first place. 

"I'll leave it in the entrance's bowl" Booker croaks, low.

Quỳnh grips the pommel hard and doesn't think twice. 

She strikes.

"Oh for the love of everything that is -" Nicky doesn't finish, blocking the blow from Andy and stopping cold in his retaliation as his eyes catch onto a glint by the staircase. The glint of metal moving in the light. It takes his mind a moment to gather itself, understand that there is no reason for the fight to have gone so far, with Quỳnh alone and having stepped out. 

It takes his mind too long, to come to the realization that something's wrong.

Because behind Andy, what Nicolò sees is Quỳnh, thrusting her sword in Booker's guts, without a word. She is silent and tall, and the man crumbles down, just like that, as she takes the sword back out and it hangs by her side. 

Andromache is startled enough by Nicolò's reaction, that she turns around and lets her own sword fall to the ground, at the scene. 

They rush forward.

Quỳnh doesn't mind them, and looks instead intently at Booker, who is lying half on the ground and half on the stairs, holding onto his guts with clenched teeth and not a curse lost from between his lips. He looks at her, with wide eyes, breathes harshly , once, twice, and dies quickly, with Quỳnh standing over him, watching.   
It's been a while, since she has seen him like this. 

Her ears are still humming, but the waves seem to be leaving. She blinks.

Booker jerks back alive, just as quickly as he died, rolling to his side and cursing under his breath. 

The others are with them now, and Quỳnh lets out a disparaging "sorry". It rings in the house. It's for their benefit, she doesn't mean it. She's certain Booker knows it. 

"What happened?" Andy asks, tight and wrong.

Neither reply. Their eyes are locked on each other. Booker's are dry and set. Quỳnh's too, she wants to believe, but there is a prickle she never liked that rubs at them. She frowns. 

Neither Andromache nor Nicolò speak, although Quỳnh can feel their stare, heavy. Andromache is by her side now, settling herself in front of Quỳnh's sword, as if she wants to prevent her from striking again. Just in case. Quỳnh doesn't spare her a glance. 

Booker doesn't say anything as he props himself up with his left arm. He nods to her, acknowledging the bastard apology that feels empty, only extending his hand with the ID card again, so she can take it. 

She looks at the plastic piece, blue and light, like waters shining under a sunny sky. There's a blood droplet on it. 

Booker still doesn't say anything. He ignores Nicolò's hand, reaching tentatively for him.

Quỳnh looks at Booker, silent and miserable under her, and feels like the waters are calling back to her, feels herself being drawn back to those years where she would watch the man dig his own grave and fall in it, to never come back again, until it was too late. And he would take down everyone else with him. With them. 

She snatches the card, pushes away and takes Andromache's arm to go to the living room. She sees from the corner of her eyes as Nicolò kneels to Booker's level, tries to get him to talk, but his only reward is a lopsided smile and a shrug. Quỳnh's jaw works. 

That day, after he has cleaned the blood from the ground, with Nicky's help, Booker goes back up the stairs. He doesn't come down again. 

Quỳnh isn't ashamed of herself. 

"He startled me" she says to Andromache. 

It's true, although she doesn't explain the circumstances. He had startled her ages ago, when he had revived the first time and she had witnessed his life from then on, and when he had started his devotion to death. Now, he is just ripping the fruits of his work. 

Justice. In action. Exactly what Quỳnh believes in. 

(she doesn't think much further in her reasoning, although it leaves her wanting)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you a lot for reading!!
> 
> Am I on a roll? Looks like it?  
> I hope I can keep up with that fire-power honestly! But I'm so excited and I am so happy writing this I can't seem to stop. Fingers crossed I can keep that fire up until the end of the work! 
> 
> See you all for the next chapter!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I could shake myself I would, believe me. I'm killing myself writing such a slow going fic. But I can't let it go. I just can't. It is a slow thing. Be warned. 
> 
> FYI : so far there are 10 chapters planned? It might grow (obviously it will.... who am i kidding). The plan is to publish everything before the end of the year (ah). Wish me luck!

Nicky is silent when Joe and Nile walk in. He is leaning against the kitchen counter, eyes lost in the room.

"So" Joe singsongs as he stretches his arms over his head, still feeling the pins and needles of working so long at hand-to-hand "did you defend our soldiers' honor, amore?"

"Or did you bow to the ancient power of unfathomable warladies?" Nile jokes, going past him and reaching for the pitcher of water left by the sink. "I don't know how you could face them both. At the same time" Nile exaggerates a shudder "I'd have run. Straight away. No questions asked" she laughs.

Nicky looks at Joe, and it's all Joe needs. He steps in front of him, and puts his hands on his lover's arms.

"Nicolò?"

Nicky looks down and shakes his head, just the once.

"Where are the others?" Nile asks, voice leveled this time, walking to the other side of the kitchen, toward the corridor and glancing about.

"Quỳnh and Andy are in the living room." Nicky tells her. "Could you bring them some water? They haven't drunk anything."

Nile watches him, then nods as she picks up the pitcher.

"There are glasses in the -" Joe starts saying.

"-trunk by the TV yes now I know!" She swiftly cuts turning around, before rolling her shoulder as if about to go to war and calling out "Ladies, I'm coming in! Please, for my sake, be appropriate!"

They hear a chuckle echoing in the corridor. Nicolò tenses.

Joe doesn't wait long. As soon as Nile has stepped away, out of earshot, he rubs Nicolò's arms and looks back into his eyes.

"Is there any-" he starts softly, and he watches powerless as Nicolò's eyes close.

"It's Quỳnh." Nicolò says.

Yusuf stands still.

"She killed Booker, Yusuf." Nicolò whispers, disbelief coloring his tone, lost in a myriad of waves and emotions.

Yusuf exhales slowly. So, this is what is happening.

Yusuf knows it's something that has been bothering Nicolò for the past week. He can't say he doesn't feel the same. He likes Quỳnh, he appreciates her and he was relieved to see her back with them. But, just like everyone else, apart maybe from Booker himself, he had a hard time getting over the fact that yes, Quỳnh had killed Booker. Voluntarily. More than once, if Nile's dreams were to be trusted. And she hadn't lost a wink of sleep over it. Unlike them it seems. With Quỳnh just being her old self, and Booker not saying a word and never staying long enough to start a conversation, and the fact that sometimes, it was still hard to see him here with them, and not feel unsafe...to have him around...it wasn't the best. It wasn't their best.

Yusuf would admit to that readily enough. The fact that Quỳnh's actions didn't sit well with Nicolò was understandable. The fact that it would haunt them was too. It would be difficult to live as long as they have and never have to face something that bad.

So Yusuf looks at his love, his soul, and tries to see where this is leading them. Thinks about trust, and time, and healing, because maybe that's what Nicky needs to hear this evening, that Quỳnh just needed them around, maybe now that they were here for her, it would be fine.

But then Nicolò changes, and Yusuf feels the coiled muscles under his fingertips and sees the set jaw and the eyes blinking open, almost dazed with loss and...fear.

Yusuf feels his heart miss a beat.

"What happened?" he chokes out, mind reeling with thousand of possibilities he had seen in nightmares and never wanted to come up again "Did she threaten you, Nicky? Did she threaten Andy? What happened?" Yusuf asks, his hands tightening on Nicolò's arms .

He hadn't be so sure about handing her a weapon so soon. It hasn't been a week since she's been with them, since they've arrived here, and although she looks fine, he also knows how far she could go, to hide. Quỳnh and Booker were more alike than either would believe, Yusuf thinks as his throat closes and Nicolò still doesn't say anything. And Yusuf knows, how Nicolò kept an eye on her, on them both, at all times. How he watched for anything that might just not be right, because while he wanted to believe he couldn't shake the feeling that it was almost too easy.

Yusuf's mind jumps. Maybe it was too late now, to ask. Yusuf couldn't bear that. He holds on tighter to his love and he stares, hoping to understand, hoping to make sense of whatever this was, whatever had come up, this afternoon.

"No, we're fine, but-" it looks painful for Nicolò, to speak about this, and Yusuf distantly thinks back on the many hours he had lost pacing away those thoughts himself.

Yusuf nods. "You think we need to talk about it now? You think it's time?"

"You don't understand" Nicolò suddenly grips onto Yusuf, and Yusuf stares at him. He sees the storm behind those clear eyes, stops breathing.

"She killed him. Booker. Here. Today."

Yusuf doesn't reply. He looks at Nicolò, feels the tremble in his arm. His heart has almost stopped working. It shakes his core, to hear those words out loud. As if they were shards of glass, broken and dangerous, words to avoid at all cost.

"She did what?" he feels stupid, and small under such declaration. He can't make his mind turn to the possibility, that one out of every single one existing.

Nicolò glances at the stairs. Yusuf's gaze doesn't follow, it doesn't matter where it happened, it mattered that it had happened at all.

"She apologized" Nicolò huffs in a whisper "she apologized, but she still stabbed him. He died. He didn't have a weapon on him, he was defenseless. Literally. I don't know what he might have done, or said to her, what they might have talked about together, to lead to that but -" he breathes out. "It can't - we can't let it go, Joe. We can't let it go. She stabbed him, and we saw it. Andromache and I."

Yusuf brings his forehead to Nicolò's, eyes closed.

"God help us." he murmurs as he rubs Nicky's arms again "God help us. Do you feel up to doing it now? Talk to Quỳnh? Where is Booker? Is he-"

"He went back up the stairs." Nicolò whispers looking back at him "didn't say a word."

"God help us" Yusuf says again. "We could-"

There is a clatter, and footsteps in the corridor. They both turn at the noise, and see Andy and Quỳnh, hand in hand.

"We're taking the bathroom" Andy tells them, her hand tight around Quỳnh's. She looks at Nicky, with understanding. But her voice doesn't leave room for disputing the decision. "We'll tell you when we're done. But don't wait for us, before starting on dinner."

Joe wants to protest anyway, damn Andromache's careful handling of Quỳnh's feelings. But Quỳnh's eyes are glistening, and it makes him pause, rethink everything, before she turns around and tugs Andromache up the stairs with her.

They watch them go in silence. Yusuf feels a deep melting guilt coil into his guts.

"We need to talk." Nicolò tells Yusuf again, and he can hear the guilt in his voice, echoing his. "Soon. Because I don't want to find out if she can do it again. Or if she could also go like that after anyone else."

Yusuf licks his lips, tries to see why Andromache would act like this. Tries to think it's not just about love, and lost time. That it goes further than that. That she isn't blind. 

"We knew it wouldn't be easy, if she were to come back. And with Booker here, it might-"

"Does it give her the right to go around killing like that?" Nicolò snaps, biting his own lips and looking guilty as he lashes out. "I'm -" _sorry_ , he chokes -

 _(I'm sorry_ , she had said to Booker, Nicolò hears the words again ringing in his mind and he hates himself, because what good does it do, to say it afterwards as if it helped and solved all the issues)

\- and so he chokes out "Please, accept my apologies. I didn't mean to sound like that. I-"

"Nicolò" Yusuf takes his face in his hands softly, his eyes scrutinizing him, to catch onto anything that might tell him where Nicky went for that lost second, looking pale and sad and alone like that "Amore, I accept your apologies. You're tired."

He kisses him slowly, trying to chase away that worry. "Quỳnh is cleaning up, we could go and see Booker, if you want? If that helps. Get his version of the events?"

Nicolò settles in Yusuf's embrace, hugging him, his head by his neck. He wants to smile, at the dedication Yusuf shows, even if it's clear that the man still has a hard time facing his old friend. Nicolò knows they haven't exchanged a word yet, either of them, and he knows how it pains him, to be unable to share anything with Booker, as they used to. Between Merick, Booker's death wish, his betrayal, and Quỳnh, what were they supposed to talk about to begin with? It was all so intertwined, and any word could be a trigger, to anger, to misunderstanding. To more pain than they could deal with. They couldn't rely on just their feelings. What they thought they knew, of each other. Because they're not the same now. It might take them a while to make their peace with that and move forward.

Nicolò sighs.

"I don't know. He didn't say anything, when I asked him." Nicolò tells him. "I don't think he's ready, to talk about any of it."

"Can we leave him the choice?" Yusuf asks above him, voice ringing, jagged.

Nicolò doesn't reply.

It's difficult, like that, sometimes.

"He startled me" she had told Andromache.

Andromache had just looked at her, waiting patiently for her to say something else, for her to explain. She had looked pained, and lost, but she hadn't pushed for more. She had always waited, patiently, for words to come. Quỳnh couldn't understand her logic. She held onto her hand, the ID card digging into her palm.

Because it would be too much to explain, wouldn't it? How could Andy understand, what it had been like, for her down there to see them all like that? For her to be unable to act, further than through Booker's nightly dreams? While she was stuck, watching him making mistakes and taking missteps every time she drowned and died, a glimpse of his fucked-up life? How could she make her understand, that what she was doing here was for everyone's sake. Booker's, theirs.

Because she has seen him slip like this already, and she knows without a doubt where it is leading.

She plays with Andromache's fingers in hers, feels the skin, the pulse. It beats an unknown rhythm. Quỳnh's ears buzz, in the silence of the room.

She thinks. They had been silently there for Booker, those first decades, as they watched him grieve. They had been there, and he hadn't taken their help, he had just locked everything inside, and wasn't it what he was doing here again? She clenches Andromache's hand tight, try to find the pulse she knows but she is certain won't find.

It's not the right one. 

She thinks, because it is worse now for everyone around. Because Quỳnh is here too, and she's isn't locked drowning in cold waters, and she has met Booker, so she can't tell what he is thinking anymore. It's worse, because there is no one asking him to be held accountable now. There's no one following him in his dreams, harassing him. There's no one where she had been, before.

Andromache stays silent. Quỳnh's ears are overwhelmed. She's racking her mind, to explain. But it's useless.

It had still failed then, she had still failed them. So what about now?

She gets up. She thinks she tells Andromache she needs a bath. She doesn't follow well what goes on afterward, still lost in her own mind.

She sees Nicolò, and Yusuf. Thinks they had tried, with their stupid exile, and what did it change? Nothing, nothing. She had seen. Absolutely fucking nothing. So someone needs to do something. And she is, even if Andromache or the others can't see it. Even if she has to go behind their back to shake that idiot man to his senses again.

Even if she has to kill him.

Until he understands, what it was like, for her, to see him do this in the first place. To be unable to help.

Quỳnh doesn't want to lose sleep over it. She has a plan, she knows what she is doing. It's for everyone. That's what keeps her going. He will have to follow, or she will get rid of him. Andy would have to understand this.

She breathes as she walks up the stairs, her mouth dry and her lungs too free, not compressed enough, Andromache's hand in hers, and she knows she's doing something right. Even if it looks harsh, even if it sounds mad. She's doing something right. She's proving him, proving them something. That she will be the one to make him face the consequences of his actions.

He needs to pick himself up. He needs to own up to his mistakes, and to live for himself. And he needs to realize no one will be there to wait. He can't ask that of them. Not after everything else.

Because they don't need him, like he needs them.

Quỳnh doesn't need him.

They could do very well without him. That's what she thinks.

He needs to understand this, to see where he is going.

She needs to witness it.

Now, Quỳnh can feel Andromache's eyes on her as they walk by Booker's door. Quỳnh looks forward, doesn't let her eyes stray to the side.

Andromache's hand is in hers, and she might clench tighter as the door comes closer into view, the wood creaks beneath their feet, and its loud and jagged, too clear, not muffled enough, but then Quỳnh's lungs give, she breathes more easily as her breath becomes shallower and her lungs tighter, because she walks by and she doesn't see him, doesn't feel him, and she wants to believe the pulse under her fingers is enough for her to go on.

It'll be fine in the end.

She doesn't miss him.

No, she doesn't.

(She can hear the waves humming, calling for her to come back and drown with them, become one again)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. So. As always, I started with Quỳnh wanting to revenge Andromache regarding what Booker did. But then, my brain went completely 360° and now we have this *waves unhelpfully at the pile of words growing around here haphazardly*.
> 
> What have I done sweet Jesus what have I done (I am as pennant as Jean Valjean in Les Mis and I'm not apologizing for that cheap as hell ref!)
> 
> I hope you liked the chapter and as always, thank you for the lovely comments <3
> 
> _ps: does it make sense that it would be Joe/Nicky when they are surrounded by others/talking to others but as soon as they are together, they revert to their first names Nicolò/Yusuf? It's just that it's such an intimate knowledge they have of the other, and the nicknames are nice, but the two of them together on their own, it just speaks of the respect and how they recognize all they've been through together since they met when they were named Nicolò/Yusuf???help my brain is dead_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, remember when I said I would post everything before the end of the year? I sort of didn't factor in the possibility of me bruising my ribs and being sort of uncomfortable sitting at a desk for some days (weeks?). Apologies for delaying, and hopefully I can still keep everything before the end of this year. *fingers crossed*

They are both locked in the bathroom, Quỳnh already standing naked by the bath as tepid water fills it, when Andromache tries.

"Quỳnh -"

"He didn't apologize to you" Quỳnh bites out, her hand tingling at the sight of water growing in the bath. She doesn't want to hear it. She doesn't want to talk about it. Andromache is here, with her. Why should he always come in between them, that insignificant idiot man?

She feels an exhale of breath gliding down her back as Andromache steps closer, a shiver that makes her skin react. Quỳnh holds herself straight, focused on not moving away from that breath. It's not wet enough for her. It's too light. But it's Andromache, that's what she needs to understand. It's Andromache, behind her right now. It's what she had looked for, all that time. It shouldn't feel-

(it's wrong, Andromache feels wrong at her back and Quỳnh's mind is looking for another form, another being, in between them, a corporeal rampart that isn't her body but another, taller, larger, to stall, to quieten the effects of Andromache at her back because it feels too much, sometimes)

Quỳnh forces herself to get in the water, ignoring the presence behind her, one foot after another. She would dive in if she could get away with it, because it's slow and tortuous this way of going in. It's not surprising enough, it's not suffocating enough. Her lungs are too open, her chest not pressured enough. It's too slow. It's not what she likes. But she grips on the sides as she sits in, trying to reach for a more natural behavior that doesn't feel natural anymore.

She is so focused on controlling herself that she almost doesn't hear Andromache, as she says.

"I asked him not to."

Quỳnh stops. Her ears are buzzing again, maybe from the water pouring from the faucet, or maybe from the words themselves. She can't look away from the water in front of her, still filling higher and higher, reaching for her breast now as she is sitting down.

"What did you say?" she whispers, making her voice work.

It takes a moment for Andromache to speak again.

When she does, she is kneeling by the bath, her own hand reaching out for Quỳnh without touching her. Waiting. As if she could bolt at the simplest gesture. It makes Quỳnh want to snarl. She isn't fragile. She is back, alive. She is fine.

"I asked him no to apologize." Andromache repeats softly, a wave coming over her eyes as she looks at Quỳnh. It looks like pity.

But it doesn't matter so much to Quỳnh, because she is trying hard to think back on when that could have happened. Because she doesn't remember. She doesn't recall, Andromache forgiving Booker, although she is sure she would have. Because it's impossible, the way she recalls it, that happening is nothing more than another delusion from Booker's own mind, when he was drunk and feeling sorry for himself while in exile.

It had burned deep into her heart, that fantasy of his. Because it couldn't be, not after everything. Not from the Andromache she knew, at the very least.

And yet, in front of her, Andromache is still and watchful. She looks tired, her cropped hair ruffled and her mouth set.

"Why would you do that?" Quỳnh feels something gurgling inside her, a gaping wound leaking open. The water is still coming up and up, but it doesn't matter so much, when Andromache is looking at her like that, with pity in her eyes and a delirious explanation slipping from her lips.

It's a lie. It cannot be.

She can't do that, not to Quỳnh. Not now.

But Andromache sends her a wan smile.

"Because I understand." she tells her, conviction and faith back into her words "Because I was part of the problem. I didn't help." Andromache looks down at the water, fingers grazing the surface. Quỳnh feels herself shake.

"I was an accomplice, in this, believe it or not."

Quỳnh looks at her. She doesn't like the sound of those last words.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Andromache."

Andromache huffs a laugh.

"What is a leader's worth, when they don't listen? I chose not to see, how hard it was for him, all those missions while he was still grieving. Because I thought it was working for me, I thought it would help him too. Who was I kidding, it didn't help anything. I was running away -" there Andromache glances back at Quỳnh, uncertain, looking fallible. She doesn't need to complete that thought, because it rings in the small room.

 _You were running away from me_ , Quỳnh thinks. She doesn't know what this is, this pitiful display of emotions for Booker's situation. She just knows that it tastes wrong, it sounds wrong. It's too benevolent. It's not right. And she doesn't wander too long down the path of _what about me? What about now?_

She stands her ground, because she can't waver. Not now. She has a goal. There is a reason why she is doing this. Even if she has to remind Andromache of what he did.

"He betrayed you.You didn't do anything wrong." Quỳnh bites out, feeling the air burn in her throat as it comes in and leaves her quickly. She doesn't know how to tell her, how to make her see.

"He was supposed to protect you." Quỳnh tells her harshly, honesty drowning her distress and her frustration at the situation."He was supposed to protect you."

In the following silence, Andromache stares at her.

But before she can say anything, Quỳnh is already burying herself down under water, until her lungs burn and the screams scratch at her throat to be let out. Until she finds her home again, or likewise.

When she blinks her eyes open, lingering with her mind's prayer to breathe and breathe again, she sees Andromache's hand floating above her, and it hurts.

Because it doesn't reach for her.

Joe has just told Andromache and Quỳnh that dinner is ready when he stops in front of Booker's door. Nicky had nudged him unrelentingly as he worked on dinner while Joe hovered, wanting to help but unable to focus enough to do anything other than wonder and wonder at Booker's place in all this. At last, Joe had given in, as Nicky told him that dinner was ready.

He had gone to the bathroom mechanically, he had knocked, found Andromache sitting by the bath and Quỳnh curled up underwater.

She had nodded at him, and that was it. He would go back down, to eat.

But as he goes through the corridor, he sees Booker's door. And he stops.

He waits, standing silent in the empty space.

There isn't a sound that comes through. And it nags at Joe, because the house is old, and he can hear Nile speaking downstairs with Nicky, and the creaks as the wind blows over the roof, but not a sound from Booker. As if he wasn't there.

It makes his heart aches.

His mind is tugging him in every way it can -leave, go, knock, ignore - but he doesn't wait to see where it will lead him. He's always been slightly reckless and look at that, ages hadn't changed him.

He walks up to the door and knocks softly. His hand goes for the handle and he pushes it down, the door squeaking on its hinges. He has barely the time to blink when he realizes that he has done all of that automatically. As he would have done before...well, everything. He takes a breath in, trying not to feel the sting of those memories. Those losses.

When he looks inside the room, he sees Booker, sitting in a chair in front of his desk. The man doesn't seem to have heard him, his face in his hands and his back to him.

Joe's heart is beating furiously. It's the furthest he has gone in the past week, to reach out to Booker properly. It's dangerous, but he has hope. How can he not, when they could talk, when maybe this time around, it could work. To pester, to be there...

He makes himself knock again, a rasp more than anything else. It sounds uncertain to his own ears and he wants to damn himself for it. It shouldn't be so tentative, so uncertain, to want to speak with him.

Joe can see Booker's palms pressing in his eyes at the sound, as he exhales long and dragged.

"I'm coming" he whispers "thank you, Nile".

Joe bites his lips.

It's good, he wants to think, that Booker has someone to lean on. He remembers so much of their past years, and so much he had said with him, how long they had spent side by side...But he can't help it, that he feels jealous. It's a twinge, a pain that doesn't last a second, that he can't be that person. He would like to, he wants to be there for his friend, this man he has come to see as his brother, but then the jealousy gets drowned, and it's only memories and regrets, and hurt and betrayal, and so much fear and blood, that come up to his mind when he sees Booker. Joe has to take a bow in front of those ruined foundations. He admits defeat.

Because he can't do it, be there for him like Nile seems to be. He just can't. Not yet. And at the same time, it's too much to let it rest. Because he cares. After everything, damn him, he cares. He scratches his throat, hovering in the doorway.

Booker stiffens under his eyes, but doesn't lift his face from his hands.

Joe forces himself to try, because no matter how hard it is right now, he can't let it go. They have to talk. So he speaks up.

"Nicky told me. About earlier."

Booker hangs his head, his arms going to rest on his legs, lifeless.

"I'm sorry he had to see that." he murmurs, without looking back.

Joe's heart twists and his gut churns. Those words again. Damn those words.

"You're sorry?" he repeats, bland.

"It's -"

"She killed you." Joe cuts through, before Booker can find an excuse that would be absurd and inconsequential and completely unrelated to the issue at hand. "She hung you before, and today she ran her sword through you, and you're sorry. For Nicky." he feels his hand tighten around the door's handle as he speaks. He finds his mind divided, between what is in front of him and what he knows. He is focused on Booker sitting there, but also on the corridor, in case Quỳnh were to pop in. He knows now why his heart beats so hard, and why he feels so strung up. It feels too much like a minefield, and God help them because it's a house they should feel safe in, not hunted down.

Which is why he can't let it go, that chase inside their own walls. He hopes, he dares to hope, that maybe he could help, do something, anything to shift the current that is dragging them all down.

"He was there when it happened..." Booker remarks, toneless.

"And where were _you_?" Joe wonders aloud "Because it sounds like you don't care. Although I know for a fact you died down there. Or so I was told."

It sounds harsh, even to him, now that he said it. But how is he supposed to stay composed and calm when the house feels so constricting, and his emotions are just storming around and there is so much he wants to shout and let out, and worst of all, when Booker doesn't react. It's almost as if him, Joe, balanced the lack of feelings Booker shows by burning with them.

He stops and breathes. He wants Booker to be fine, he wants Quỳnh to be alright, he wants them all to be at peace, but clearly that's too much to ask. He knew it would be difficult. It's a long path, and they have barely taken the first steps. But he never conceived how painful it would be.

"What happened, Séb?" he whispers, helpless. He feels himself leaning against the door. He doesn't let go of the handle, unsure. He might fall if he has to stand on his own.

Booker hunches farther in his seat, hands at his knees. He shrugs, not looking at him.

"I...scared her." he settles on.

Joe's eyes narrow. He hears what Booker say, that Quỳnh had just reacted to him being there, that it was nothing more than instincts, and thinks.

Quỳnh is a force to be reckoned with, there's no doubt about it. And before, she could have taken on Booker on a whim and left him for dead in barely a second, so the idea that _he_ could scare _her_ is laughable to Joe.

But there's doubt weaving inside his heart, because he knew Quỳnh _back then_ , and he knows Booker _now_ , but there is also much he doesn't know anymore. There was the betrayal he hadn't seen coming. There was the pain Booker had never showed, the dreams he wouldn't talk about...And suddenly Joe finds that he can't be sure, regarding what happened between them both. In their minds and in the time they had spent alone together before the team had crashed in the flat and put a stop to whatever was happening there. Wouldn't it be easier, if one of them had just snapped? If it was clear, where they stood? If they would just hash it out, and be done with it for once? But Nile had been scared for Booker, and there hadn't been time, and Quỳnh had sounded fine, she smiled, and Andromache hadn't complained, relieved as she was, and Booker had gone with them without putting up a fight, not even telling them he didn't want to follow with Quỳnh around. What a mess it all was.

Joe can't let everything in. It's full of knots and every path you follow reveals five other options that are all important and all terrifying in their complexity. He can't deal with everything for now, he needs to stay on that path. Understand why Quỳnh would kill Booker, without sparing the others a word?

He goes back a few steps. Hears as an echo Booker saying he scared her, remembers the tears in Quỳnh's eyes that wouldn't fall and her grip on Andromache's hand. He also remembers that same grip around the pommel of a sword and the way she had handled it swiftly, danced with it, when the fight had started outside. Her control and her awareness of everything.

"You did not." Joe asserts, standing his ground. He can't be sure, but his instinct tells him that _scaring her_ is not the right explanation. Something else happened.

Booker huffs, and shakes his head.

"It's just...difficult. She is... adjusting." he tries "She needs time."

And sure, yes, that sounds pragmatic, but Joe can't connect that idea to the Quỳnh he sees every day eating at a table with them. She's already adjusted. She's more than knowledgeable about their world. She manages quite fine, better than any of them would have thought. True, there are lapses.But still, it doesn't answer the problem at hand. It doesn't explain why Booker went down again. Why she did it again.

Those aren't lapses. Those are becoming a habit, whether it's because of Booker or it comes from Quỳnh's own initiative, it doesn't matter. As a whole, it doesn't sit well with him. There is so much he is missing, about the two of them, its unsettling to acknowledge it.

"So she kills you in the meantime?" he attempts, instead of saying it all plain and simple.

That, apparently, is not worth a reply.

Booker is uncooperative, and its frustrating, but Joe won't let it go. So he tries for another angle.

"How many times has it happened?" he forces himself to ask. He doesn't want to know, but he has to, because he needs to be sure. He doesn't focus yet on the why. The facts. Those he can do with. It's a ground he can stand on.

"It's not -" Booker shakes his head again.

"How many times?"

Booker doesn't reply, tensing in his seat. It's driving Joe mad, to be unable to make him see, to make him understand, why it matters so much. To see him keep so much to himself again. As if he hadn't learned. As if none of them had. And it was back to how it used to be before. With all the invisible poison seeping in and twisting them in a mockery of a team.

"What if she goes after Andy? Or even Nile?" Joe hisses, reaching a breaking point "Or Nicky. What will you say then? Sorry again?" Joe knows he sounds cruel, but damn it all, he couldn't bear it again. Any of them getting hurt, because Booker thought he knew better again. It's too close, it's too much. And Booker senses it, because he hunches forward, as if trying to hide.

Joe watches him, and sees him shivering. It's silent for a moment, and Joe can hear Nile laughing loud downstairs, and the footsteps of someone further down the corridor walking in a room. He tenses, waiting.

Booker stands up, slowly.

"I... don't think she will..." Booker says.

Joe squints, because he can make out, with the light behind him shining in the darkened room, the dried blood on Booker's shirt. It's been 3 hours. His eyes widen.

But Booker doesn't notice.

"It's just...me.You shouldn't... worry about it -" Booker starts saying, but Joe doesn't hear him.

 _It's too late_ , he wants to scream. _I already do. And you don't take me seriously, you don't take any of us seriously. I don't know what to do. What if she goes after you again, can we trust you to tell us when you're in danger yourself? Or are you just putting her in danger and you can't face it, be truthful? Because you're a coward and an asshole and I don't know why, but I expected better of you, even after everything, after all this time.  
_

"How do you know?" He snaps instead, feeling the anger heating up again in his guts, anger and frustration and fear, of what could it possibly lead to, this lack of communication, this stalemate. Is it placing them in the claws of life-threatening situations again?

"I just...know."

And it sounds so easy, as Booker says it. Joe can only look at him. He feels like he is trudging through muddy waters. He can't tell who to trust, Quỳnh or Booker. Neither or both.

And it hurts.

"Why should I trust you?"

The words are out before he can think them and he hates himself for putting it out there, but at the same time, if there's nothing else that can get through to Booker, it's the only thing he has left, to protect himself. To protect them.

Booker stills. He leans on the desk and exhales raggedly. Almost as if it had been a blow to hear it say out loud.

"I... just know." he mutters, his voice catching."We spent long enough in each other's head for me to be sure of that one thing alone." He coughs, and Joe doesn't want to read too much into it, but it sounds as if he is preventing himself from crying. 

"How many times Book?" he asks, unrelenting. He won't let himself be diverted, although he feels something sting his throat too. His hand clenches harder at the door handle.

"It doesn't matter -"

"Like hell it doesn't!" Joe half-shouts before remembering himself. In the silence that follows, the roof creaks above them. But he isn't stupid. In the muffled sounds of the house, and the tentative words exchanged here and there, that shout is as loud as thunder striking down in a clear summer night. Everyone knows, now. He doesn't know why, but it adds a layer of tension to their conversation. He could almost bite it, as thick as it is getting.

Booker exhales shakily, acting as if it was nothing.

"She needs time. That's all -"

But Joe knows it doesn't work like that. Time on its own, it's useless. Just another way to deepen the problem. And silence doesn't help. Looking on doesn't help.

"Just like we gave you time?" he snaps then, and it hurts just to even say it, to acknowledge it, but it's true so he has to lay it out, to confront it. "Time to dig yourself down deeper and takes us down too? Is that what she needs, your think? Is that what you need too?"

Booker is holding himself straight, and he still isn't facing him. Joe doesn't want to dwell on it, but being unable to see his face as he speaks to him is another hurt entirely.

"It's different -" Booker whispers.

"Why?"

"She's working on it, she has Andromache and-"

"And you don't?"

The silence is torture.

Joe blinks away tears. He doesn't like the way this sounds, but it's as if nothing had changed. Six months was too short, and it felt too long sometimes, but nothing had changed. He still didn't consider them, in his life. Any of them, as if they couldn't be there for him. As if they weren't enough. As if it couldn't be enough, what they had to give. What they could offer him.

"Seb-"

"She just needs time." Booker repeats blandly.

"Sébastien -"

"It's fine." Booker snaps at the name, turning around suddenly, his hands in fists by his sides. As if Joe went too far, just now.

It ignites another wave of anger in him. As if he had any right to put boundaries on their conversations, about that. When they're talking about trust, and protecting their family. After everything he did.

"I would ask you to stop lying, but can you even do that?" Joe cuts, disdain dripping from his words. He hates himself as he says it, but it hurts too much. Seeing Booker standing there, not meeting his gaze.

Booker barely blinks at the words.

He shrugs after a moment.

Joe wants to shake him because it looks like he is too far out of reach, like he isn't there with him. He grips the handle tighter and feels the wood of the door creaking under the pressure he is applying there.

"It's difficult" Booker whispers finally, looking over Joe's shoulder "when it's all you've done in a long time. It's hard to be honest. But I try."

"Clearly you don't try hard enough."

Booker stares at him then, and he doesn't reply.

The clarity in his eyes scares Joe deep down. As if he knew, as if there was nothing else for him to hide behind. As if he had given it all, and he had nothing more to hold him up. It's raw, and distinctly, Joe remembers when Booker had come to them, once his last son had died. It's the same look that he had had, pained and factual, when he had told them what had happened. He had said it, pragmatic, sober, in a way he hadn't been after.

The clarity is what breaks him.

There is a door closing down the corridor. And Joe doesn't think more.

"Dinner is ready." Joe says in the end, because he feels like a coward, and there is too much to unpack still, and it brought nothing than more questions for him and pain for Booker. He leaves, and if he heads straight for Nicky as he reaches the stairs, he doesn't question why. He just does.

He just wants to be held, for a while. And find again why, why he had gone there. Why he had tried.

He doesn't see Quỳnh at the end of the corridor, standing still. Listening in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope this molasses of a chapter wasn't as frustrating to read as it was for me to write it (if only I could get myself to speed things up instead of putting off the emotions and letting everyone steam in their misery...). 
> 
> Next chapter, Nile is onto something and she is not happy with anyone, she will let them know (or try. Everything is very much a matter of trials and errors in this fic...)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am alive. 
> 
> I had lost a bit the path with that story so I decided to leave it alone and after two months I've got something I think? Anyway! Here's an unexpected update ^^

Sébastien

Sébastien 

Booker is shaking, left in his bedroom as Joe flees. 

He's heaving slowly, and his mind is strangely again disconnected.

There was so much he wanted to say to Joe, so much he wanted to give him. The fear of doing something wrong again, the paralysis, that came with the fear of making him leave, when he had come to see him willingly. It burned, a sluggish mixture in his guts. He was so scared of being wrong and not doing enough, of not saying it right, that he had butchered it up instead. As always. Would he be able one day to say something, to do something again, without doubting every second of it? 

His hands are shaking and he clenches them in front of him. To know he isn't dreaming. The conversation replays in his head, it's the longest one he's had since they've arrived. It leaves him breathless. It's too much. Not nearly enough. 

And in everything that was said, every word in edgewise, every pain that oozes blood and betrayal and distress, there's Sébastien that echoes. 

It's the Sébastien that hit the worst.

The pleading tone, which stands stark against the usual derision that comes with it.

 _Sébastien_ , she sneers. It's never said any other way. Always deprecating, always disdainful. Always dismissed.

 _Sébastien_ , she jeers. 

Booker's eyes get caught on his shirt, still red with blood. Old, almost hidden. 

_How many times?_

Booker wants to laugh. How many times? Too many, and still not enough. It's never enough. She kills him and he comes back, she hates him and he hates himself but it doesn't suffice. She kills him, for every bad word and every missed step he did, she kills him and he can only hope she will end him but it never succeeds. 

How many times, Joe had asked. He had seemed distraught, lost. As if he couldn't understand. As if it was a mystery to him, that maybe Quỳnh would want to kill him. 

How many times.

As if Joe had any right to judge Booker over that. As if him and Nicolò hadn't killed each other plenty of times before they understood, before it had been enough, and they had stopped. Found another way to go on.

It's as if the centuries had dulled the reality of their past. They joke about it now, but could they have faced their actions then? Would he be able to joke about it with Quỳnh later on, if she doesn't end him first?

Why can't Joe see, that sometimes, it's a mistake done over and over again that is needed? It's a pain unceasingly repeated. Until you reach rock bottom, until you can't dig any deeper, until you just get bone-deep tired. And you realize you have to crawl up.

Booker is tired now. He can take the hatred, it's a relief to finally see it painted on someone else's face. He can take the pain, even if it's never twisted enough, it's never good enough, it never drowns the well of his guilt but it fills it, wave after wave, death after death. It's something at least. It's repentance maybe. He wants to think it helps her at least. But he is tired, he won't lie about it. 

And Quỳnh still isn't. She doesn't look like she will tire, anytime soon. 

He will just have to wait for her to catch up. 

But damn, Booker is tired. Because now he has to consider the others. He never meant to stay with them, he shouldn't be there. But he is weak, he's never hidden that part of him. He's weak, and he sees the way Quỳnh shakes before she kills him, the anxiety pouring down her limbs, overcrowding her spirit. He knows the tells now, the way she stops blinking, the way she will cling onto metal if she can get away with it, the way she wavers in place, slightly. As if she were still beneath the sea. 

Booker can't leave. He knows it. He needs her, as much as she needs him. It's a twisted logic, but damn if he will take that away from her now. If he won't try and uphold his part of that bargain to the last rags of his veins and his bones. To be honest, he doesn't want to see what would happen. If he wasn't there, for her to channel her rage, her anger. Her fears. Would she kill Andy? Go after Nile, Nicky? Or maybe Joe? 

She is never lost when she is near them. She is always in control. It's only around him that everything seems to flow out, and she needs to see his blood dripping, hear his heart stop beating, to know where she is. 

Booker won't chance it.

He knows he shouldn't be here. He knows they need time to heal, he knows they need time, away from him. He doesn't like it, having to stay here. But it would be so much worse, if he tried to leave. 

He can't even say, if Quỳnh would let him. Or if she wouldn't just kill him. This time, not caring who is there to watch it happening. 

Booker breathes. He glances up, and there she is. Standing in the corridor and looking at him. 

_How many times?_ Booker sees her eyes drifting from his face to his shirt, where the blood has dried dark and crisp. He forces himself to relax, let his hands come to rest at his sides. He forces himself to stand straight. To not react. To not hide. 

She's a wild animal, don't scare her, or she will lash out. And anyway, she knows him too well, it wouldn't matter if he tried.

Her eyes daze away, an ocean coming between here and her mind. He hears Andy rummaging in their bedroom at the end of the hall. 

How many times?

Clearly not enough, Booker thinks, and his jaws tighten and his fists clench as she stands, solid on her feet even as she is swaying ever so slightly. 

Booker breathes in, observing her as she greedily watches his chest open up, then cave in, with air leaving his lungs. She is obsessed with breathing, and he, he is tired of dying. He is tired of coming back. Of having to look out for the others, make sure no one sees her. He can't take the questions. 

He would rather it be one last time and that's that. But in the meantime, there is Quỳnh who is not entirely here yet, Andy and the others who want her to be there with them, and if him dying over and over again can help, he will take it. He would do anything, to help her, to help them all. If it means suffering through Quỳnh's controls, so be it. He can do it. It's not like it will end him. 

And if it does, well. No complaints from him. It might also be just what Quynh needs. To be entirely free. 

"Pathetic, Sébastien."

Her lips move, sluggish, distant, as if under-water. It's soft, barely mouthed words. For herself and for him only, to hear. Like it used to be when she was still drowning. He doesn't know anymore, if he dreams her voice, reading her lips, or if she did speak up. Does it matter? That's how much he knows her. That's how much he can understand her.

As always though, it's the Sébastien that hit the worst. Because no one apart from Quỳnh still used this name. He was Booker now, his name was forgotten. It wasn't meant to last. He was supposed to be better than Sébastien, the coward, the deserting fucker, the liar and the counterfeiter. But who is he kidding, he is still a coward, he is still a liar. He is still doing what he believes is best, without telling anyone else. 

When Quỳnh leaves him with a last sneer, unsteady, wavering, as if watered down by years of thoughts circling, he wonders if he really is the only one on the team who is lying.

Nile watches, as Joe and Nicky whisper to one another before dinner begins properly. As Nicky holds onto Joe and never lets his hand go. She sips her hot tea, and listens when Quỳnh comes down and she mechanically sends her a smile in reply. She is working on making it honest, true. She wants to like her, because she didn't deserve anything that happened to her, but she cannot make herself trust her yet. It's still too early. She still doesn't understand everything. 

Andy follows a few minutes later, with Booker behind her, and Nile does a double take because their faces are set and there seems to be an agreement that no one bothered telling her about. It's almost as if they were gearing up for a fight, all of them, in silence and shared glances. Nile wasn't privy to any of it. 

She keeps those thoughts close, she watches.

Nicolò nudges Joe, to set the food on the table. It starts a small talk, about the pasta, and the sauce. How it smells. Quỳnh sniffs but doesn't comment. 

They sit, and they talk, dinner easing the conversation. But something's not right.

And Nile can't let it go. 

Booker is silent, as usual. He nods and whispers, thanking the ones who hand him something or asking him about yet another thing. Quỳnh smiles, dreamily, she eats and drinks slowly, as if savoring every bite, every drop. Nile watches, and she sees how Nicky is looking, intent, focused, how Joe is spinning the conversation, jumping on every little detail, anything to make them all talk and laugh and go on. Andy goes along, talking too, reminiscing, trying to make Nicky focus on something that isn't the last two arrivals in their mists. But Nicky doesn't yield. He answers, his eyes never straying either from Booker's plate or on Quỳnh's handle on her knife, and Joe picks up on his words, and it all starts again. 

Nile gets pulled in too, she doesn't mind, she does her best, to help Joe relieve the underlying tension between them.

  
Nile knows she shouldn't, but she sure wants to know what it's all about. 

It's Andy who finally tells her, later, alone, as she is sitting at the kitchen table with her eyes locked on the bottom steps of the stairs and a glass of clear, clear water in her hand. 

The glass is what makes Nile sit by her side, because it's so reminiscent of something from their past, before Quỳnh, after Booker, that it hurts to see it plain now, under her eyes. It's not alcohol, it's true. But still, that behavior is not good. 

And so, Andy says "Booker took her by surprise. She had the sword in her hand. She reacted."

It leaves a bitter taste in Nile's mouth, as she looks at Andy's pale face and her trembling arm. Because as much as she wants to give credit to Quỳnh, the woman has been too controlled and too aware of everything to be startled by Booker of all people. Booker, who never takes part in their fights, who never reacts, whose only weapon now is the computer he sits in front of to work with Copley, for them. And as much as she wants to like her, she can't help but remember her screams down in the ocean. And Andromache, tired and lost, living one day at a time and trying to get better when she was away from her. 

Nile sees the trembling and the glass, and she wonders how long it has been since that desire to drown has burned in Andy. Because before Quỳnh came back, they had had a few months which were just alright, without a drop of alcohol in sight. And it had never come back to that. Until now. 

She doesn't say anything, stays with Andy until Andy sends her a ruggish smile and tells her it's her own turn to be doing the dishes now. Nile smiles, and nods, and understands the dismissal as what it is. 

When she goes up the stairs, she can't help it. She listens, and she doesn't know what to make of it, when she hears the water dripping in the bathroom. Booker is in his room, Joe and Nicky are in theirs too. It's the water that gets to her. 

She wonders if she should talk to Booker, but she can understand that he is tired. His door is locked, and she won't press him. But still, the water dripping echoes in her ears.

As if Quỳnh couldn't live without it.

As if she had never left her coffin to begin with.

Nile prays. She prays, and she remembers, that no matter how many faults makes a sinner, they have to be forgiven. No matter what they tell you, what they do, it's not your place to judge, but to open your arms, give them what they need and wait for them to see, how to do better. 

Nile prays. She sees Booker's door closed, she hears the water dripping slowly with Quỳnh waiting besides it, and she hopes, that tomorrow, whatever she gives them both, it will be enough to help them up. Dig them out of their graves, that they can start their lives again. 

Nile prays. It doesn't answer her questions, but she will be there when they need her. She won't let them drift away. 

She couldn't handle it, if it came to those nightmares again. 

She still sees Booker hanging, and Quỳnh sitting beneath him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Thank you for all the comments on the last chapter, I hope you all liked this one as well! 
> 
> <3


End file.
